Alex Moir: 1976ā2024
Itās funny how it takes something horrific to happen for us to say:
āIām going to treat each day like a gift, not stress about the small stuff and stop and smell the rosesā.
On my friendās 47th birthday in August, he received the news that he had cancer.
When he got the call, heād just stepped off a rollercoaster in Margate with his four children, of all places.
The diagnosis was terminal.
Heād had it for 18 months and didn't even know.
It had spread all over his body.
It was only by chance they found cancer by removing a spot from his scalp.
He was bald, so it couldāve gone undetected for longer with a full head of hair.
During those 18 months, Alex felt as fit as a fiddle.
He continued to work as a primary school headmaster and climb Scottish mountains.
Whenever I called him to ask how he was, he said: āWell, Iām alive!ā
Iād say, āSpeak soonā.
Heād quip back: āUnless Iāve kicked the bucketā.
Even in his final few hours, he kept his dry sense of humour and said to me: āOfficially dyingā.
I would've rolled over and died the day of that phone call.
But not Alex.
āIāll keep running until the road runs outā, he said.
Despite being in pain, he was determined to prolong his life for as long as possible for the sake of his wife and kids.
His refusal to give up is an inspiration that has shifted my perspective forever.
Sleep well, my friend x
Itās funny how it takes something horrific to happen for us to say:
āIām going to treat each day like a gift, not stress about the small stuff and stop and smell the rosesā.
On my friendās 47th birthday in August, he received the news that he had cancer.
When he got the call, heād just stepped off a rollercoaster in Margate with his four children, of all places.
The diagnosis was terminal.
Heād had it for 18 months and didn't even know.
It had spread all over his body.
It was only by chance they found cancer by removing a spot from his scalp.
He was bald, so it couldāve gone undetected for longer with a full head of hair.
During those 18 months, Alex felt as fit as a fiddle.
He continued to work as a primary school headmaster and climb Scottish mountains.
Whenever I called him to ask how he was, he said: āWell, Iām alive!ā
Iād say, āSpeak soonā.
Heād quip back: āUnless Iāve kicked the bucketā.
Even in his final few hours, he kept his dry sense of humour and said to me: āOfficially dyingā.
I would've rolled over and died the day of that phone call.
But not Alex.
āIāll keep running until the road runs outā, he said.
Despite being in pain, he was determined to prolong his life for as long as possible for the sake of his wife and kids.
His refusal to give up is an inspiration that has shifted my perspective forever.
Sleep well, my friend x
